Dedicated to the birth of my niece, Shoshanah Layah Chapman
Yearning to be free, it presses against the wind,
Struggling to stretch and bloom.
Finally, it pushes past,
It is now free to be who it wants.
Looking down, it notices a cut,
Given from a thorn as it went by.
What will I do now, how can I go on?
This was the petal’s soft cry.
It slowly drifts in the wind,
It’s destination unknown.
Where will it land? What is its future?
That is what remains to be seen.
Over the mountains and across oceans,
The little petal drifts on.
The tear it received is like a little wing,
Helping it fly high overhead.
It finally does land right beside a building,
It lands right on the doormat.
The petal is scooped up and brought inside,
It is now part of a bouquet; it was a florist shop, you see.
We all have our differences; we all want to be free,
There will be bumps along the way that is for sure.
Know however, that it is simply to help us at one point or another,
To enable that we land on the doorstep home.
